


In the Dust

by onewithroses



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hoodoo, goofa dust, graveyard dust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:48:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onewithroses/pseuds/onewithroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Witches aren't the only ones who have use for dust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Dust

It's late when they return to whats left of the witch graves. Pitch black, half collapsed--the tunnel is more of a tomb now than it ever was before. Abbie's nose runs. She presses her fingers and they come back black with gunpowder and blood. The air burns. "You're sure about this?"

"Of course," There is something unnerving about the way Frank stands apart--spaced away from them, white collared and held together with suspenders and straight pants. His flashlight is held at eye-level. A level not directed at Abbie, not directed at Ichabod. "I always tell my grandmother's superstitions to officers who destroy historic property." 

"I think you will find--" Ichabod began before Frank took a step and bent down--reaching out to push two fingers into scorched earth and chard wood beams. 

"That you and Ms. Mills did, in fact, purposefully light caskets of old gunpowder and collapsed the tunnel." 

There is an almost audible click as Ichabod's mouth shuts but it's Abbie who feels tension race along her jaw. Frank shakes his head once, flicks the ash and dirt back into the rubble as he stands. 

"So how do we do this?" It's nothing Abbie has ever heard about--and it's clear from Ichabod's face that he hasn't either. "Just dig?" 

"Yes." In front of them is a maze of debris and air so stale it would choke flame. "Dig above the body you want it from." He turns to her for the first time since they started down to the makeshift witch's cemetery. "It would be easier if you hadn't destroyed the burial site." 

It's hard to imagine anyone related to Irving, a man Abbie has yet to see out of dress slacks, digging in the dirt in hopes of putting someone's soul to work for them. "And... your grandmother did this." 

"You're questioning the methods of an old woman when claim your partner is from the Revolutionary War?" 

The question is dry and Abbie feels air turn to ash in her mouth even as she quips,"Just trying to imagine your grandmother digging up graves in Manhattan." 

"She was from Georgia." There is a pause, Frank tilts his head as though considering just how much he should admit here and now. Strange things have happened, stranger things have been said. Frank has stayed carefully removed from all of them. "Those you were investigating weren't the only ones who had interest in dust." 

"Lieutenant-- _if you please_." Ichabod has already sunk his hands into the grim and pulled out branches that are white and dry as bone. Abbie spares one more look at Frank Irving--but he's already turned his attention away from her and towards the mouth of the tunnel. 

"I'll hold the light." 

She gets to work. Somewhere in the remains of the tunnel are bones and in the dirt around those bones there is something she doesn't understand. 

But it stands to reason that if it is something they can't understand: they need it.


End file.
